by L B Wyatt
“What are you doing?” Veronica asked as she watched Brooke grab her purse and her coffee and slip off the stool.
“Heading out,” she replied. “Come on, the bank’s opening in five minutes.”
Veronica’s mouth was set in a fine line. She was trying to be nonchalant, but it was difficult. To have this woman know so much was disturbing, but if Veronica had learned anything in life, it was to roll with the punches. And this was no different. Brooke was a psychic. And Veronica (whether she liked it or not) needed her help right now. So she kept her thoughts to herself (as best she could) and followed Brooke out to the sidewalk. Veronica was a little stunned when Brooke stopped next to a shiny black Mercedes and unlocked the doors.
She looked over the hood at Brooke and said, “This doesn’t look like your style.”
Brooke grinned as she opened the door. “It’s a company car.”
Veronica nodded, understanding then and slipped into the passenger’s seat.
“Being the director’s wife has its perks, you know?” Brooke stated as she cranked the engine.
Veronica sighed as an image of Logan in all this handsome glory floated through her mind. I bet it does, she thought bitterly.
“I’ll need to make a pit stop for the key before we go to the bank,” Veronica announced.
“Right. To the post office then?” Brooke surmised.
Veronica narrowed her eyes and didn’t fully cut Brooke a look, but just slightly turned her head. “Yeah. Do you even need me to come along for this or do you already know the combination too?”
Brooke’s initial response was a grin. She drove for about half a mile before she said, “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”
Veronica shook her head. “No.” The post office was a few blocks away from the bank. Veronica made quick work of retrieving her key. She had it strung around a necklace and once she’d pulled it from the PO box where it had been safely secured, she looped it around her neck and went back to the car. She hated to even admit it to herself, but she felt better about this whole operation with Brooke along. If the psychic had seen anything or anyone lurking, she would have let Veronica know immediately. This assurance gave Veronica a small sense of security in walking around with access to her most treasured items around her neck.
Brooke was quiet when Veronica got back in the car. They rode in silence to the bank and parked in the garage across the street. Veronica felt her nerves scratching away as the older suited gentleman led them to the vault. Once inside, he used his key coupled with Veronica’s and soon they were standing with her safety deposit box on the table in the middle of the secured crypt.
“Do you already know?” Veronica wondered as she watched the employee walk toward the door to give them some privacy.
“About what’s in there?” Brooke assumed. Somehow the reflection of the gold colored metal plating of the many boxes surrounding them bounced off Brooke’s soft hair, making it look like a gilded halo around her head and shoulders. She was startling to look upon with those crystal-clear blue eyes that seem to see right through whatever they fell upon. Veronica only held them for a moment as Brooke looked up at her.
“I know the contents, but I won’t know anything about them until I actually touch them,” Brooke offered.
Veronica was nodding, but it was just a gesture to process a few thoughts. “So you dreamed of me last night?” Veronica inquired, looking at the not yet opened box before them. She had both her hands on top as if to lift the lid, but she didn’t just yet. She wondered if a part of her was holding so tightly to hide how shaky her hands were.
“Yes,” Brooke confirmed.
“And you hear my thoughts?”
“Strong ones, yes.”
“And you touch stuff and see things?”
“Right.”
“And in that one case I read about you, you went into some kind of trance and actually became the killer you were chasing?” Veronica didn’t know why she was dissecting Brooke’s abilities at that very moment unless she was stalling, but for some reason her curiosity was clawing at her and she just couldn’t ignore it anymore. She had read up on Brooke when the station hired her to help solve some cold cases in the past couple of years. Veronica had always considered Brooke a fraud until the cases started closing—and at an alarming rate. Brooke wasn’t a wishy-washy bells and whistles type of seer. She was thorough, exact and straight to the point. All qualities Veronica admired, but would never voice that out loud. As if Veronica had to, she realized. Brooke was probably hearing everything that was going on inside Veronica’s head right now.
When Brooke was slow to answer, Veronica cast a glance in her direction to make sure she hadn’t crossed a line in her questioning. What she saw on the psychic’s face was a mix of emotions. One thing Veronica had discovered about Brooke was she was very expressive. Veronica watched as pain fluttered across her delicate features and her brow knitted in what Veronica assumed was unpleasant memories attached to the experience just mentioned. It hadn’t occurred to Veronica that in asking she would drudge up memories as well. Through the reports and statements she read, Brooke had suffered seizures and actually bled from her eyes during the whole episode. She had been handling a bullet fired from the gun the serial killer possessed and it had created some sort of link between the two. The whole thing just sounded like a bad sci-fi movie to Veronica, but she couldn’t deny its truth.
“I didn’t become him,” Brooke said softly, turning her eyes down. “I could just see through him.”
Just, Veronica echoed in her head. Like it was no big deal to just creep into the head of serial killer and watch him stalk his next victim. From what Veronica remembered of the report, Brooke had saved the intended target through it all. That was all that really mattered, right?
“I’m sorry,” Veronica heard herself saying, though she didn’t know what the words were for. She might have been apologizing for asking, or maybe just because Brooke had to endure that terrible experience. Either way, Brooke looked back up at Veronica and she looked determined.
“We didn’t come here for me, Covey. Open that box,” she ordered.
Veronica had delayed long enough, she supposed. She lifted the lid and pulled out the envelope with her name written across the front. Her gut twisted.
“What is it?” Brooke inquired.
“A death certificate,” Veronica responded. She had looked at it briefly before stashing it away for safe-keeping after going under the radar. “My sister’s.”
“Why didn’t you just ask us to get it with the other papers?” Brooke inquired logically.
Veronica shook her head a trace. “I didn’t want to ask too much,” she confessed quietly.
“You’re too hard on yourself, you know that? You are a good person, Veronica.” Brooke stated and the way she said it—like it was some sort of validation—caused Veronica to look up at her.
Suddenly, the guilt was almost too much to bear and Veronica felt her mind forming the words. Before she could think better of it, she was talking.
“She trusted me,” Veronica whispered and she felt a tear sting her eye. Maybe it was the present company and the fact that Brooke was all-knowing, or maybe Veronica was just tired of holding it all in. Whatever the reason, she felt compelled to speak and she simply couldn’t stop. “Parker trusted me when she took this job and now she’s dead. She’s dead because of me, Brooke.” The crack in Veronica’s voice was completely involuntary. So was the way she leaned on the table in front of her. The ebb and flow of emotions was crippling and Veronica was on the brink of breaking down in front of the one person she never thought she would feel okay to break down in front of.
“She made a choice, Veronica. We all do. Every day, every moment, choices are made. What happened isn’t your fault.” There was that tone again. That stern voice of validation. But Veronica refused to believe it.
“If I had been brave enough to try and get it myself, she would still be alive.”
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“And you might be dead,” Brooke reasoned. “Life has balances. They are fair and things don’t always work out like we want, but that’s the way it is,” she said simply.
Veronica drew in a deep breath, clutching the envelope like it was some sort of lifeline. She slowly gathered her strength and battled back her emotions so that the urge to fall apart started to finally recede.
“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, Veronica, but it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel things and be human about certain situations. You don’t always have to be so hard on yourself. You can like things that other people like. It’s okay to be trendy and have some fun once in a while,” Brooke declared. “If you could stop punishing yourself all the time, I think it would be easier for you to see life differently.”
Veronica turned wide eyes onto the psychic and swallowed back another round of emotions. She knew Brooke was right. Veronica knew she was too cynical and pessimistic and judgmental. Character flaws, she thought once more. But she could work on those, right? She thought back on Merritt as she looked on at Brooke and for a split second, Veronica felt something spark inside her heart. Hope, maybe? Hope that she could be a decent person after all? Even after the mysteries of her past were solved?
At that thought, she turned her eyes back on the envelope once more. What would this reveal? What kind of path would this direct her down? Realistically, could she start trying to be a better person once she knew what had really happened to her sister? Or would the truth send her deeper into the darkness her heart had been living in for so very long? An image of her sister’s beaten, bruised and bloody body floating in that bathtub answered her question all too quickly. And just like that any spark of humanity that might have ignited within was snuffed by the horrors of her past.
Her eyes darkened and her expression turned to stone. One look at Brooke and it was evident Brooke knew she’d lost any chance at any camaraderie that might have been forged between the two in that moment.
“Give it to me,” Brooke instructed, holding her small hand out.
Veronica only glanced down at her open palm briefly before sliding the paper into it. She watched Brooke closely, amazed at how she didn’t shut her eyes or do anything else theatrical. Veronica saw the change in her expression though as Brooke’s pupils dilated wide and shock overcame her face. She lifted her hand to her chest and held it tight before flinching and pushing the envelope back into Veronica’s hold.
“Parker Farris,” she breathed. “She was so young.”
“Who killed her, Brooke?” Veronica demanded. She watched as Brooke continued to rub her chest, leaning into the large table in the center of the room.
“I never saw a face. She was shot from behind. The bullet came out her chest.” Brooke rubbed her sternum a little more. “She knew someone was stalking her. Someone was after her. She tried to call you. Why didn’t you answer?” Brooke looked over at Veronica sharply.
Veronica considered the urgency in Brooke’s voice must be transference from the vision she’d just had. Although Veronica could never imagine what it would be like to watch someone die through their own eyes, she had known this psychic to actually taste the very poison that killed people before. So if Brooke looked a little flush and sounded a little harsh, Veronica assumed it was just an echo of Parker’s last moments. A testament to just how awful her life had ended.
“I was working on a case. I didn’t see her call until it was too late,” Veronica explained, struggling to keep the remorse out of her tone.
“I didn’t realize you worked for a government agency on the side,” Brooke said regaining some of her composure and she stood up a little straighter.
“Not a government agency, an independent one.” Veronica didn’t know why she felt the need to throw that in there, but she had. Another lie Arc had fed her that she gobbled right up. He said it had been for the government, but she found out the truth later on. Arc only worked for Arc.
“Parker worked there, too,” Brooke stated.
Veronica just nodded.
“That certificate…” Brooke looked at the envelope. “There are county records of deaths,” Brooke realized. “Why would you even want to hire someone else to get a copy?” she questioned.
Veronica looked at the envelope again, thinking back on her earlier confession. She hadn’t been brave enough, no. But more to the point—she hadn’t wanted to go back home. “Because the ones listed at county are altered. This is the original,” she explained lamely. “And I needed to see the signatures.” She needed to know who it was that signed off on her sister’s death. Because Victoria’s cause of death was not a suicide—that much Veronica knew.
“Any chance you could see who signed off on it?” Veronica asked with near desperation.
“No,” Brooke said quietly. “It’s crossed a lot of hands since then. And I also never saw the hand that pulled the trigger,” she began causing Veronica to look up sharply. “But I saw the one that touched this envelope directly after. You already know who killed her. Why are you denying it?”
Veronica narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Because…I have to be sure.” And by that statement, she meant there was no going back now. Once she knew the truth, it was going to change everything.
“Don’t doubt yourself, Covey. You’re one of the best detectives I’ve ever met. Always go with your gut,” she advised.
Veronica drew in a deep breath and turned her eyes onto Brooke’s. “Why are you being so nice to me? All I’ve ever done is be a bitch to you.”
Brooke smiled and just shrugged. “I told you I was crazy, and I told you you’re too hard on yourself,” she reminded and her eyes fell onto the other object in the safe deposit box. “Need help with anything else?” she offered.
Veronica glanced at the classified envelope staring pointedly up at her. She felt her insides twist in knots. Man it would be easy to have Brooke touch that thing and tell Veronica exactly what happened to her father.
“It’s not cheating,” Brooke assured.
“It feels like it to me.”
Brooke let out a little sigh. “You’re a stubborn thing, aren’t you?” she accused.
Veronica pulled the contents from the box and closed it back. “So I’ve been told.” She placed the papers in the small duffle bag she had brought with her and the jewelry box from her apartment along with it. “I appreciate your efforts, Brooke. And…” Veronica hesitated for a split second before pressing on. “And I appreciate the therapeutic talk, but I’ll let you get back to your family now.” Veronica was proud at how well she kept the bitterness out of her voice as she said those words. She was sure it didn’t matter, though. Brooke was probably well aware of Veronica’s jealousy.
“I’ll run you by that storage unit first,” Brooke said over her shoulder as she walked from the vault. “I think you’ll need the extra supplies.”
Veronica was glaring at the back of Brooke’s head, but she kept her mouth shut. Was there anything this woman didn’t know?
“Sure there is,” Brooke answered yet another unspoken question. “Now, come on, I’ll tell you a little more about that dream I had last night. I think you’ll want to know about it. You might even want to take notes.”
Chapter Thirty
That evening Veronica returned to her hotel room. She had rented it for another night and had bought some food, wine and other necessities to stay out of view for a while. She decided she would turn the ledger in first thing in the morning, but tonight she was ready. She showered, dressing in the sleep shorts and tank top packed into her resource bag. She felt so much better after cleaning up. The cost of the hotel room was reflected in the selection of shampoo and soap in the bathroom. She emerged with the subtle scent of jasmine on her skin. Her long hair, combed and loose down her back was still damp as she opened the fridge and grabbed the alcohol she’d purchased to calm her nerves. She sat the bottle of booze beside her burner phone on the counter and pressed the power button to
make the telephone light up. She was checking for any missed calls, but in reality she wasn’t sure why. A bad habit maybe. She had only given her number to one person earlier that day and she was sure she wouldn’t hear from him. She discovered she was right when she saw the empty call log, but she tinkered around on the device for a few more seconds before leaving it alone.
She poured a hotel cup full of red wine and took several sips before walking into the small living area. She sat down on the small straight-back chair next to the petite coffee table. She stared at the manila envelope on the table for a while, holding the cup of wine to her lips. She had waited long enough, she decided. She could do this. She reached for the paper and pulled the contents from within.
Her eyes swept over her father’s missing person’s report. Her heart lurched at the sight of it. She was kicking herself now for not asking Brooke why she had included this document. Veronica had looked over this report once before when she first began her quest so many years ago. What could be different about it now?
She pushed by the emotions and sipped her wine once more as her eyes skimmed over the information. Allison Covey was the reporting person. Veronica remembered her mother’s concern when her father didn’t return from his trip out at sea. She had talked to herself a lot, Veronica remembered. Their maid Caroline had been mentioned in the report as having last seen Victor Covey taking off on his boat late that evening. But the missing persons report was nothing she hadn’t seen before, and she wondered why Brooke thought it was important enough to include. Was there some clue she was supposed to magically see? Cause she wasn’t seeing anything new…
Veronica felt a tug of irritation as she tossed the report aside. It was the military logs behind it that she wanted to dig through, but after a solid hour of reading each detailed log, she came to the crushing conclusion that it really did appear as though her father had gotten lost at sea. It was hard to focus and try to decipher. Glancing at her phone on the counter, she fought the urge to call Brooke again as she was revisited once more with the notion of cheating.
